


Angels on My Shoulder

by Remember When (scribblemyname)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/Remember%20When
Summary: He stared between her and the woman he could just see over her shoulder, one his potential future, the other his past. Laura’s body was tense, her SHIELD jacket so noticeable when the Black Widow was patching up his injury and ordering him in annoyance to hold still while she stuck a needle through his flesh.





	Angels on My Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andibeth82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/gifts).



“You can’t shoot her,” he said hoarsely, still trying to catch a breath as Natasha bent over him, a sharp crease between her eyebrows, her worst frown.

He stared between her and the woman he could just see over her shoulder, one his potential future, the other his past. Laura’s body was tense, her SHIELD jacket so noticeable when the Black Widow was patching up his injury and ordering him in annoyance to hold still while she stuck a needle through his flesh.

He swore.

“I’m not going to shoot her.” Natasha was tight-lipped after that, and Laura still stood there, hand on her holstered gun, saying nothing, just watching them.

 _Laura_ had recruited Clint into SHIELD, but he’d never mentioned his former partner, the girl he’d thought he was taking under wing before she proved herself more than his equal in maturity and professional experience. A thought he didn’t often follow to its end.

“Natasha.” He slurred the name. He opened his mouth to try again and there were her fingers, gentle against his dry lips.

“Shhhh.”

* * *

“You should get a girlfriend.” Natasha’s leg had slid against the inside of his, and her cheek had dimpled the way it always did when she was dropping a bombshell with a flirtatious lilt.

Clint just leaned back in the bed and groaned. Naked, wrapped up in red hair and damp skin and satisfied pleasure and she’d say _that._ “I don’t need to get laid to do my mission.” 

“Neither do I.” An arched eyebrow, a sharp elbow against his side as she drew herself up and gave him her squinty-eyed frown. “Clint. You’re my… hope,” she finally said, “of being better, of getting out.” Of the dealing in blood and violence and the Red Room that made her. She never talked to him about the demands Russia made of her or what demands she made of him in return and what they really meant. “You can’t let me drag you down into the dark with me.”

It was happening too. His fingers itched and he clutched her a little more tightly while she waited for him to acknowledge it. He’d started out with the rule that nothing could be treason, and somehow, now he didn’t ask, didn’t think things through to their ends with her because they’d kill her or worse if she failed them, and that mattered more to him than his bloodstained conscience. “Natasha…”

“Let me pick her,” she said, voice still soft, eyes even a hint apologetic. Her fingers played gently over the edge of his shoulder. “You can’t just have a dark shoulder angel,” she added. “You need a light one too.”

He’d have done almost anything for her. It was only a matter of hours, and more pleasure, before he’d finally agreed.

* * *

“Is he asleep?”

“No.”

The voices were soft, the touch softer, even if the fingers were callused and there was gunpowder scent mingled with clean cotton and Laura’s sweat.

“Did he really think I wouldn’t fight back?”

She might have known him, loved him, but she was a SHIELD target and somehow he'd let Laura talk him into SHIELD.

Laura’s laugh was soft, contained. It left him and he heard her move toward Natasha, who’d probably enthroned herself somewhere, feet up on something like she was a teenager because for some reason, her graceless moments weren’t an act. They were something she felt was her own.

He felt too tired to open his eyes, but he made himself crack them open and squint into the too-bright light of the dim safehouse lamp to see the two women in his life when they finally met.

Except… It didn’t feel like finally. Laura was shooting Natasha the same head-tilted look she gave him whenever he thought he could pull one over on her and she was reminding him he couldn’t.

“How do I like boys?” Laura asked. She was quoting, paraphrasing. The tone was all gentle reproof.

Natasha flashed that bright, tight smile she was so good at. “You do like them. If they’re the right ones.”

You did take him in, under your wing, draw him out of the business I was sinking him in. And he knew that look she was giving Laura now, he couldn’t help his own reproof.

“You _did_ pick her.”

They both looked over just as he winced because speaking— Yeah. Not his best idea. It hurt like a spike driven in right under the stiff bandage on his chest.

“You said I could.”

“I didn’t mean _bed_ her.”

“She’s a good lay,” Laura deadpanned. “Clint, stop wiggling. You’ll loosen the bandage.”

Natasha’s hand was already on his shoulder, Laura close enough to lend physical support if need be, and it just wasn’t fair. He huffed.

“I wasn’t there.”

It wasn’t the protest they were expecting, judging from the open laugh Natasha graced him with or Laura’s sharp swat on his shoulder.

“Ow, woman!” He glared at her. “Watch the injured.”

“Watch your tongue,” she answered tartly, then settled gingerly on the edge of the bed while he watched her carefully. She leaned against Natasha, slipped an arm around the other woman’s shoulders, her other _lover’s_ shoulders, and Natasha let her.

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

She wasn't going to shoot her. Either her.

"Clint. Are you sure you want this?" Laura asked, that little crease between _her_ eyebrows he was coming to know so well.

Natasha shook her head. "No, he agreed. I got to pick. He's not the only one that needs you."

"That needs SHIELD, you mean," Laura said, eyes narrowing.

Clint let them hash this out between them. He knew exactly what he wanted.

And there was that look again, the one that reminded both of them that the Black Widow, consummate professional and seductress as the need arose was really younger than both of them. "I could go straight," she said. "For you."

Laura stared a long moment. She looked over at Clint and sighed. "I'm calling it in. Never mind. Clint, this is your fault. _You're_ calling it in."

"Yeah, sure. Get right on that."

Natasha slipped a cell phone out of her pocket and dumped it on his head.


End file.
